A Love Steeped in Honor
by AgelessWitchofShadows
Summary: When a stranger shows up in Whiterun, Farkas is in for a disconcerting wake-up call. Being a werewolf is hard enough without constantly battling the inner wolf, and now his object of affection is shrouded in a dark mystery. Will the darkness of his own Blessing be their undoing? Or, perhaps, this stranger is hiding a past so bloody that it is impossible to hide?
1. Chapter 1: A Stranger in Whiterun

Chapter 1: The New Recruit

"Don't tell me you actually invited that whelp to Jorrvaskr!" Njada huffed while walking with Aela back to their home. Farkas caught the last bit as he was nursing a sword-weary arm, "Sister, it's his decision. Me, I'd probably welcome another brother that doesn't call me thick."

"I didn't invite him; I merely made a suggestion. And in all actuality, it is Kodlak's decision, Brother," Aela replied, pacifying Farkas and only upsetting Njada further.

"Maybe you are interested in what he has under that tight, full-body leather armor, eh? And I bet he's a looker under that hood, too," Njada said spitefully, looking to her Shield-Sister's nearly impassive face. Annoyance flickered in her eyes, but nothing more. Narrowing her eyes, Njada looked to Farkas, hoping that he could be tricked into the disagreement. "What say you, Farkas? Aren't you curious about our possible new brother?"

Farkas glanced to his right as he came to flank Aela. "He seemed to be good with a bow, even better with a sword. Even when he only had his claws, that Khajiit still fought. I'd be happy with him in the Companions."

"Well, I say it's too soon to tell." Aela spoke sharply, as if daring further arguing. Njada risked one searing glare, Farkas nodded, and all three fell into an almost-complacent silence as they neared the gates of Whiterun. The guard gave them a small bow and allowed them into the city. As they passed into the city, Farkas peered over his shoulder and just could make out a lone figure in leather armor with a twitching tail in the light of the moons.

~oOo~

The next few days found Farkas wandering about Jorrvaskr, restless and needing to do something. On the third day, he finally asked Kodlak if he might go to the market to see their meat and metalwork. Vilkas and Kodlak exchanged amused glances, but Kodlak let him go, reminding him that Whiterun was their city and he needed no permission to walk its streets. Farkas thanked him, and crossed Njada's path as she discussed the Khajiit that they had encountered in the fields to Ria. "His arrow almost missed it's chest, but he must've had a lot of confidence, cause it hit and it hit hard!" She smacked her hand against her thigh. "Then he switched to his great-sword, and cut that giant across the legs. We thought he was finished when his sword was knocked clear out of the field, but apparently Khajiit aren't to be messed with. He dodged the giant at every turn, and slashed with his claws!"

Ria sat enraptured by the tale of the mysteriously Khajiit warrior and hung on to every one of Njada's words. Njada, pleased, sat proudly at the feast table. That look fell slightly, when Ria asked, "What did he look like? Was he handsome?"

"Well, he had a ragged hood, but his voice was soft, but there was just something about it. . . ." Njada trailed off, trying to remember more details for her tale, when Farkas came by. "That doesn't sound like you completely disagree with Aela when she hinted at an invitation," he chuckled deeply in his chest, and continued to the doors of Jorrvaskr. Njada could barely stave off Ria's excited chatter and questions about her tale.

Farkas came down the steps slowly, breathing in the crisp, cold air of the early morning. A good day to train, he noted without much thought. The temples were abuzz with priests and priestesses, the children had moved their games to this quarter, and the guards were relieving their fellows for some much needed sleep. Farkas knew that he should just go back and train with his brother, but something about today seemed off.

Someone had come to listen to the priest of Talos. He paid no heed until said someone was pushed, not hard, by a guard who said, "Go fiddling with any locks, and we'll have a real problem, Khajiit."

Farkas held onto that last word, and turned to see the figure. The Khajiit that felled the giant was righting himself and smiling good-naturedly at the guard, who clapped his shoulder at something the cat said. Turning, the cat caught Farkas' eye and smiled at him from underneath the hood. He bowed slightly and continued to listen to the priest. Farkas stared at the cat until the priest fixed him with a glare. He went started toward the market, then glanced back to see the Khajiit coming the same way, but on the other side and looking at the Gildergleam, almost sadly. Farkas' heart sped up for a moment, then stopped as the feline met his eyes from within the hood.

Making his way to the warrior, the Khajiit stepped slightly to the side to avoid the water. Farkas found that endearing, although he couldn't think of why. They met each other at the steps to the market, each acutely aware of the other. Farkas started when a voice tinged with a purr spoke from the hooded head. "A lovely day for a stroll, is it not, honored warrior?"

Farkas hummed in response, trying to relax with the cat this close. The Khajiit cocked his head to the side like a puppy when puzzled. Farkas glanced at his companion and was pleased that his smile was still in place. As they came down the bottom stairs, they overheard Carlotta Velentia arguing with a very spirited young man. The Khajiit to his left slightly hissed as the young man walked by, but briskly walked with purpose to Carlotta's stall. Farkas decided to see what he would do and walked with him. The cat put on a gentle smile and spoke to the lovely woman. "My lady, that man was not troubling you, was he?"

Carlotta looked up in surprise; perhaps at the Khajiit's lilting and soothing voice, or perhaps at his use of a title and charming politeness. She leaned on her arms on the stall. "Life's hard enough with all these men propositioning me. But that bard is the worst," she replied.

"You get a lot of attention then, hmm?" The cat said, speaking more plainly to her to ease her tension. She met his eyes almost angrily, but he maintained that gentle look.

"You've got no idea! Half the men in Whiterun have proposed to me; some were even single. They'll never understand," she said lowering her voice. She looked up the steps to the temple district, where the children played. "No amount of flowers or honeyed words are going to change my mind. Right now, all that matters is my little girl Mila."

"Ah, so Mila is _your_ daughter! She is such a little lady, ma'am, so now I can say that I know where she gets that from!"

Carlotta's cheeks turned a little pink at that. "No man's going to get between me and my little girl." She resolutely turned to her wares as someone passed.

"But is someone bothering you about that fact?" The cat stepped aside to the edge of the stall, Farkas following and paying close attention to the situation.

"That bard Mikael is begging for a dagger against his throat, the way he goes on about me! I've heard him boasting at The Bannered Mare, saying he'll 'conquer me as a true Nord conquers any harsh beast.' Hmph!" The cat tensed at that, tail going stiff for half a second and smile vanishing. "I think that this Mikael and I should have a talk about respecting the good and honest womenfolk," he said, his smile returning, but it was a bit more angry than charming.

Carlotta was again shocked at this Khajiit's concern for her well-being and his mannerisms. "If you want to try, go right ahead. I don't think anything will get through that thick skull of his, though," she replied , skepticism heavy in her voice, and she bent over her stall to make sure her wares were still good and fresh.

The cat straightened and looked to Farkas. "Accompanying me?" He inquired amiably, an amused expression in his shadowed face. Farkas had to work to appear unconcerned, and quietly said, "If you don't mind." He watched with fascination as the whiskers on the cat's lower face twitched with silent laughter. Walking past him toward The Bannered Mare, the cat led Farkas with his swishing tail.

Upon entering the doors, the Khajiit gave the room a once-over and almost immediately spotted the bard. "If you would, honored warrior, wait at this table a moment," he said with a tone of finality. Farkas sat down warily and he eyed his companion thoughtfully. The cat gave a disarming smile, sending chills through Farkas' body. He then made his way to Mikael to give him that talk about 'respecting the good and honest womenfolk.' Farkas chuckled in his chest, knowing that the bard would think that the lithe warrior would not be a challenge. But if he had known that that same warrior had felled a giant that worried three Companions, he would be worried. Before speaking to Mikael, as if he heard Farkas' low chuckle as well as his thoughts, the feline gracefully turned and looked at him. No smile this time (which disappointed Farkas), but he said nothing, to bard or Companion. Then he turned back to the object of his assignment. Tail lowered and still, he looked as if he were hunting; but he wasn't crouched as if he were going to pounce. Farkas laughed again and this time his companion smiled at him, as if this were a game that he was playing.

"Excuse me, sir bard," said the Khajiit in a sweet voice, complete with a soft purr.

"Care to hear a song, cat?" Mikael said in an odd-sounding parody of the Khajiit's. He gave the slender feline a once-over and also kept an approving look towards him. "You might not even have to pay me for it, my sweet."

"I have heard something rather nasty about you, sir. You need to leave Carlotta alone." Farkas was surprised to hear such bluntness from his polite companion. He unconsciously leaned forward to hear more.

A smirk crept up the bard's face. "Carlotta put you up to this, didn't she? I'm sorry, but that fiery widow is mine. She just doesn't know it yet." The smirk grew wider as the words left his lips. The cat stiffened slightly, almost unnoticeably, but Farkas watched his tail's angry movements, curling and twisting around itself.

"I do not believe that women are to be owned," the cat replied, coldly. His words were dipped in an icy venom that stilled the rest of the room. The patron of The Bannered Mare watched them stoically, but watching all the same. "She's not yours. Stop this nonsense."

"What did you just say, my sweet kitten? All I heard was the sound of an ill-placed jealousy." The honeyed words of the bard, along with the nickname, were only making the Khajiit angrier; his tail now stilled with a chilling intensity, and his shoulders going tense. He replied, with uncanny calmness to his words, "Leave her alone, _my sweet minstrel_, or else."

Pure anger, unrestrained, flooded the bard's face. "I don't have to take that from you!" He launched himself at the cat, who deftly sidestepped him. The feline balled his fists, put them before his hooded face, and assumed a brawling stance. Mikael straightened and threw a heavy swing into the cat's gut. He didn't double over, but Farkas saw the strength it must have taken for the cat to have not done just that. Instead, the cat struck out and grazed Mikael with three claws. Infuriating him more, the cat back-stepped and feinted towards him with a sudden deftness. Mikael, caught unaware, stumbled and his defense wavered. The Khajiit landed three more blows, one to the stomach and two to the face, and Mikael was down. Panting, the Khajiit straightened and huffed once at him.

When Mikael caught his breath, he stood and said, with a slightly sneer, "You know how to throw a punch, I'll give you that."

The cat fixed him with a stare. "You leave Carlotta alone, or this will get even worse." The cold tone made both bard and Farkas flinch. "And do not call me by anything other than what I wish to be called."

With a sigh, Mikael relented. "You win. On my honor, Carlotta won't have to worry about me ever again," he paused, then added, "And also on my honor, I will not call you any nicknames. Unless we get to know each other better." He winked once at him, and turned back to his instrument and audience.

The cat bristled, but bit his tongue with visible effort. He turned back towards Farkas and made his way over. Farkas stood and raised an eyebrow at him. The Khajiit gave him a blank look for one moment and said, "I prefer The Drunken Huntsman anyway. Shall we?"

Farkas grinned widely and the friendly smile from before found its way back onto his companion's face.

Walking back to Carlotta's stall, Farkas studied the cat by his side more closely. The hood had partly fallen, and locks of long black hair fell forward. Two large black ears were just peaking under the edge, and stunningly blue cat-eyes peered at him curiously, but maintained the friendliness that seemed to radiate from him. The cat's nose was a dusky pink color, while his fur was a dark gray, borderline black. He also had three scars marring his cute face; one near his right eye, one below his left ear, and the final one on the bridge of his nose. These scars spoke of a hard past, but instead of making him look fierce, Farkas thought them to be endearing, especially when the cat cocked his head to the side and gave him a side-long glance.

Farkas was snapped out of his reverie when they abruptly stopped in front of Carlotta's stall. "My good lady," he said, smiling, "Mikael will not be bothering you again."

Carlotta just stared at him skeptically for a moment, then gave a surprised intake of breath. "Really? You convinced that lute player to stop chasing me?" The cat cocked his head to the side playfully and pouted. "What is the matter? Is not that what you wanted? Perhaps I should go back and tell him. . . ."

As he turned, she laughed loudly and grabbed his arm to stop him. He took the hand she laid on her arm and swung her in an odd dance. Both laughed and she said, "You're such a playful man!" He halted and took off his hood. His ears twitched wildly and he swung his tail around. "Not a man, my lady, I am but a wandering tomcat!"

Carlotta smiled at him and smacked his arm, returning to behind her stall. "I'd thank the gods, but I'll settle for thanking you, wandering tomcat. Here's some coin for your help, and you are welcome anytime."

The cat smiled a little sadly. "I cannot take this from you. I did only what any decent person should."

"And I am only giving you the gratitude and payment that any decent person deserves for a good deed. Please, tomcat?" He reluctantly took the money and flashed her a grin, knowing that he'd been had. "Well then, my lady, I'll thank you kindly and stop blocking your stall. Give my regards to the little lady Mila!" he turned and did a funny little half wave at her, and he and Farkas walked back up through the temple district.

"Well, my friend, I do find it questionable that we have undertaken that little quest and we do not even know each other's names," the feline said, stepping in front of him.

"Farkas, of the companions. I saw you the other night when you took down that giant," he said. He suddenly thought that if this cat wanted his name, then he would probably be sticking around. That strangely made him almost giddy with happiness.

"Well met, Farkas," The Khajiit purred at him. Farkas loved the way his accent made his own name sound. "My name is Jarod. I suppose I shall see you around, then." and with that, Jarod deftly turned a corner and went inside the Temple of Kynareth.

Farkas stood there a moment longer, and headed up the stairs to Jorrvaskr. "Jarod, huh?"


	2. Chapter 2: What's the Danger?

Chapter 2: What's the Danger?

Jarod looked out across the fields that were part of Whiterun's outlying territory. The wolves were, he had to admit, a little unnerving at first. He had encountered four of them on the mountain he traversed. They were peculiar to other wolves he had known. They skirted around him and had followed him, not as they would do with prey, but as if they were simply observing him. It was as if an inkling of humanity had entered their minds and pushed the beast to the side.

They eventually fled into the fields and vanished. Jarod had taken some time to think on their behavior before he decided to move on. He had a job to do, and he was not going to condemn the people of Riverwood to the jaws of that dragon, should it come after them. Armed with a small steel dagger, he began his careful descent down the slope of the mountain.

The light of the moons is bright tonight, he observed. He could see four farms in the field. Jarod let his hand wander down to his dagger's hilt. Better safe than dead, he thought. People were already wary of his kind, but he had to defend himself. His bow and arrows were slung across his slight back. Slender legs carried him behind through the fields, and a lock of his long black hair fell into his face. His sky blue eyes swiftly swept the fields, checking for the slightest movements in the night.

His tall black ears swiveled to the side and his tail stilled. Blending with the night itself, he crept toward what seemed to be sounds of battle. He drew his bow taut, and crept forward further to see three Nords battling a giant. Not prone to getting involved unless forced, but unwilling to leave them to face the creature, he stood and aimed. A whistle and thud in the giant's chest heralded his coming. Before the Nords could see his face, he pulled up his hood and looked up as the giant knocked him out of the field.

Dazed, Jarod reached for his next weapon of choice: his great-sword. He rolled and sprung, landing on his feet. Ears ringing from the giant's blow, he spread his feet and swung the sword to land a cut across it's great legs. The giant roared and swung its own weapon. Ready for it this time, Jarod ducked and slashed up into the giant's chest. Infuriated, it grabbed his sword and threw it from him. Nearly out of options, Jarod raised his fists. Claws out and ears back, he hissed menacingly. Leaping to the side, then leaping up to its chest, he grabbed its neck with his claws and pulled. Spraying the gore down on himself, he tore out its throat in a frightening moment of predatory fury. Once satisfied that it was thoroughly dead, he went to retrieve his fallen weapons and tend his wounds. Returning to the body he found the three Nord warriors looking at him with looks of satisfaction, reluctant admiration, and open awe.

"You fight with the fury of the wild!" The big Nord male to the right of the huntswoman exclaimed with approval. The huntswoman silenced him with a look of gentle rebuke, like that of an older sister reprimanding a younger brother. "You'd make a decent Shield-Sibling."

Jarod cocked his head to the side perplexedly. He stepped closer to the three and asked, with genuine curiosity that he was ashamed to show, "What is a Shield-Sibling?" He mentally rebuked himself for allowing a purr of contentment at the compliment slip into his voice.

"New, eh? Never heard of the Companions? We are a band of warriors who fight for honor. We also earn a bit of coin while we're at it as well," The huntswoman replied, either not hearing the purr or politely ignoring it. "You should come up to Jorrvaskr and talk to Kodlak about joining. You'd do well with us and you could sate the 'wild's fury,'" she said, smiling a bit. Jarod was a little at a loss; he usually was more composed when fighting and, quite frankly, he was embarrassed that any one should see him that way.

"Many thanks for your compliments. I may have to take that offer up," He said, not wanting to offend or promise. The other Nord woman scowled even deeper at this, but the man nearly beamed with happiness. The huntswoman merely nodded once, small smile still in place, and motioned to the others to head up to the city. The man was still staring at him with a look of awe and interest. Jarod took that moment to take in his possible 'Shield-Sibling.'

He was bigger and taller than Jarod, and he was burly. Dark hair hung freely in his face, but not obscuring his somewhat milky eyes, while a jagged scar ran down the left side of his face. It did not disfigure him; rather, it . . . made him desirable, really. His stubble running along his jaw line only added to the effect. His steel armor glinted with each breath he took, and Jarod could just imagine the muscles hidden by that armor. Jarod, afraid he might offend the warrior, stepped away and smiled politely at him. The Nord jumped as if Jarod had struck him and went red in the face. Jarod wanted to giggle, but refrained, as the warrior turned to catch up with his companions. As Jarod went to a small pond to clean himself off, he turned to see the warrior watching him from the gates.

~oOo~

"What is the meaning of this interruption? Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving any visitors," the dark she-elf said as she descended the steps with her sword drawn. She seemed like a no nonsense woman, and Jarod gave her none.

"I bring news about the dragon attack on Helgen, Lady Dunmer. Riverwood also calls for the Jarl's aid," he said, giving her pause to interpret this statement.

She took in a breath sharply and replied, "The Jarl will want to speak to you, then. Approach." She deftly sheathed her sword and turned, assuming he would do as she bid. Jarod followed two steps behind and to the left, inwardly cursing his old respectful habits. _At least I have learned from being here that you do NOT walk with a servant's gait,_ he thought, chidingly, at himself. _Perhaps they will not notice my peculiar habit._

He stopped before the steps of the throne and bowed at the knee. The Dunmer female looked curiously at him, but the Jarl smiled amusedly at him. "What is it Irileth?" She turned to him, her gaze sliding from Jarod to her Jarl. "He says that he has news of the dragon attack on Helgen, Jarl." She once again turned that distrustful gaze to the Khajiit. He humbly lowered his gaze and stood. "You say you saw this dragon?"

Jarod nodded, and said, "I saw the dragon attack Helgen, and last I saw, it was headed this way, near Riverwood, Jarl."

Balgruuf grimaced and turned to his steward, with whom he had been arguing. "You see, Avenicci? Do you think our walls could protect us from a dragon?" Avenicci stonily and reluctantly replied, "No, my Jarl."

Balgruuf didn't acknowledge his reply as he turned back towards Irileth. "Send troops to Riverwood! I'll not have a dragon attack them without taking action as well!" She immediately stood at attention and simply said, "Yes, my Jarl!"

Jarod had stood aside quietly, thinking that his job was finished. "You sought us out at your own initiative. That kind of honor deserves a reward. Take this steel armor, and may it serve you well, cat," the jarl said, friendliness overshadowing the business-like air. "There is something else you might do to help us further friend," He said, rising from his seat. "We'll need to speak to my court wizard, Farengar. He can tell you exactly what needs to be done." He gestured to the next room and Jarod began walking into it.

Farengar was busy at a scroll on his desk. When Jarod walked in, he angrily said, "What are you doing here? If you're looking for the Jarl, you missed the throne room." He looked at him more thoroughly. "You look like another of the bumbling mercenaries the Jarl has. Therefore, you shouldn't be in here looking for the wizard." He turned back towards his scroll and was about to walk around the desk. Jarod's purring voice gently stated, "You are about to step on your own shock rune, Master Wizard."

"What?" Farengar snapped sharply, then looked down. "Oh, it appears you do know something of magic. I'm sorry, the Jarl often sends me blundering fools." His tone softened, and his gaze was steady and more focused. Jarod replied, "I take no offense. I have only a rudimentary understanding of the arcane. And you are far above me in station, so I feel nothing at your venting stress at me, sir."

Farengar, slightly taken aback at such politeness at his cynical attitude, smiled at him. _Another friend won?_ Jarod inquired of himself. The Jarl grinned as he caught up with the cat. "Found a friend, Farengar?" The wizard turned to him and nodded enthusiastically. "You've finally found one who might know more than his own name and what weapon he uses."

As Farengar explained what his task was and educated him a bit on dragons, Jarod had a distinct feeling that he had found a good friend in the wizard. He assured Farengar that he would come back and learn some spells after he found the Dragonstone, of course. And after finding the fine Nord Companion he had met earlier.

~oOo~

Now, Jarod found himself in a brawl with a bard, while several watchers insisted that the bard should make a rug out of his fine fur. Oddly, and painfully, reminded of his past, he thought of this brawl as nothing less than a dance. Dodge this way, then that, throw a punch. Oh yes, what a fine dance indeed. He would steal glances back at his Nord Companion and saw that he was enraptured by this dance. Finally, the bard went down, and swore that he would bother the lady no more.

After seeing Carlotta again to tell her the good news, he was blessed by the gods to receive a name to that ruggedly handsome Nord. Farkas. _Farkas._ He loved the way it rolled off his tongue, and he purred in delight as Farkas said his name as well. His tail swished over the ground and wrapped around itself. He had decided that the Nord looked as good in the day as he did at night. Then, Jarod remembered his promise to Farengar and excused himself from Farkas' company. He took himself into the Temple of Kynareth to get his bearings, and again set off for the Dragonstone; all the while secretly pleased with his decision to show Farkas his face, and to see the attraction and admiration in Farkas' eyes.

~oOo~

_Thank the gods that that's over and done,_ Jarod thought, hefting his blade out of the Draugr Lord. He was also recovering from the dizziness of blood loss and the burst of power that the glowing runes gave him. He lifted the Dragonstone and slid it into his pack. Now, to return to Farengar and that handsome Nord.

He stumbled as he stepped away from the stone coffin. _Maybe I should stop and take Arcadia up on her offer of a healing potion,_ he thought distractedly. He panted with the combined weight of the Dragonstone and his own gear. Jarod only focused on putting one foot in front of the other as he came out of the bowels of the barrow.

Reaching the entrance, he put his pack down and simply leaned into the wall. He smiled wanly to himself. _A morning breeze could make quick work of you, _he thought. He lifted his head to the sounds of the whistling wind and soft pattering of rain on the ground ahead. He had been stuck in the barrow, sore and sick, for three and a half days. Farengar might be worried about him or just impatiently waiting on him at Dragonsreach. Jarod flicked his ears at a scratching at the large door to Bleak Falls Barrow. He whistled a low note, all he could manage, to his horse. The scratching stopped and a faint whinny came from the other side. _Good old boy,_ he thought,_ Go get some help._ A thundering was all he got in return; he knew that old horse would raise absolute cane until he got someone to come see to his fussing about.

He slowly slid down the wall to a sitting position. He was so tired. . . so tired. If he just slept awhile, then he would be fine. His blue eyes closed in relief, his breathing slowing. He leaned once more on the wall, his back to it. He slipped off the precipice of wakefulness and fell into his past.

~oOo~

"Damn, horse, stop fighting me!" The dapple horse whinnied hysterically and jerked it's great head away from the stable hand's grip. Dancing around him, it began to pace towards the city. "Oh, no you don't!" The stable hand jumped forward to catch the reins, but again the horse danced away. "Father! Come quick! We got a mad one out here!"

Skulvar came from inside the house and sighed. "Boy, step back, you're only making him more panicky." Skulvar walked forward as his son fell back and let his father do what he was best at. The dapple neighed, quieter than earlier, but it was still frantic. It tossed its mane and pawed at the ground nervously. Skulvar spoke to it soothingly, but it responded only by allowing him to approach. Then as he came close enough to touch it, the stubborn horse rushed back to the road.

As the horse began to stomp at the ground, the stable master recognized two of the Companions coming from the city. "Excuse us, warriors, but could you help us get this horse before it hurts somebody?"

Farkas and Aela came at a trot to help, when Farkas suddenly stopped. "Shield-Brother? I know that this isn't work for us, but. . ." Aela turned back to look at him sternly. Farkas ran down to the horse and it did not shy away. "This is Jar. . . I mean, this is that cat's horse, Aela."

She glanced at him and the horse, and drew them closer. Farkas whispered harshly, "It has his scent, Sister. May I go? I will accept the consequences later."

Aela nodded her assent and watched him handle the horse with great care. Animals had never been good with their presence, but this one was disciplined well. Farkas mounted it somewhat awkwardly, and it waited for him to take the reins. Once situated on the steed's back, he nudged it with his foot. The horse glanced back at its rider once, and then raced down the road without another moment's hesitation. Farkas held tight to the reins, as an irrational worry overtook his inner wolf. Both man and wolf snarling in confusion, they shared a single thought in that moment:

_You better not be dead, cat!_

A/N: Hey guys! Here's your new chapter! Hope you all like it! I think I'm falling in love with my own story. I will probably give you all previews of chapters, starting in the next chapter. I will also make an appearance at the beginning of chapters as well. I didn't think of this with the first chapter, silly me! _' Oh well! That's all for now, read and review, and feel free to PM me if you like. See you! 


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